


Lunch Date

by Blunette (Hoshikuzu_san)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco has a dog, Drarry, M/M, Mostly Draco's POV, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6199438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshikuzu_san/pseuds/Blunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Pansy tricks Draco into accompanying her on her date with Ginny. Needless to say, had Draco known Ginny would, in turn, bring Potter along, he would have just stayed home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Date

“Malfoy.”

“Potter.”

Draco withheld a groan and, as inconspicuously as he could, massaged his temples. He could feel a headache coming on, and for once, it wasn't even his fault.

Pansy, for whatever crazy reason, wanted to get in Ginevra Weasley’s pants. However, as a Gryffindor, Parkinson knew she would first need to woo the girl, gain her trust, and  _ then  _ receive her prize. It was a disgusting thing to do, to pursue someone for their body and then leave them after you received what you wanted, but that was Pansy. She got what she wanted, and wasn't afraid to be hexed while doing so.

But then Parkinson went and dragged Draco into it.

The blond had been doing a  _ wonderful  _ job playing a goody-goody. He worked at the little potion’s shop down the way, didn't start trouble, and valiantly ignored all the shit the wizards still sore about the War sent his direction. In fact, he'd even gone as far as to avoid Potter for the past few months, as it seemed they lived close by. Draco wasn't stupid, and knew that the natural outcome of Potter and Malfoy in one area was a fight.

_ But then Parkinson went and dragged Draco into it. _

Ginny, though intrigued, didn't trust Pansy (and for good reason). She'd decided to bring none other than  _ Harry Potter _ along for their coffee date. Parkinson, thinking three steps ahead, agreed on the terms, but only if she could bring a friend as well. This friend was Draco, who’d been blackmailed into threatening the shaky calm of his life by joining the girls and  _ Harry bloody Potter _ for lunch.

As he stirred the straw in his iced tea, he wondered whether Trevor, that menace, was worth it. Taking a sip, he banished the doubt from his head. Yes, Trevor was worth it.

“So.” Potter, for the first time since arriving, took his eyes away from a flirty Pansy and slightly flustered Ginny, to rest them on an awkward Draco. “How are you?”

Draco withheld a snort, because he didn't want to offend the speccy git too early into the date, and settled with a shrug. “Fine. You?”

“Fine.” Potter shrugged.

“That's good.” Draco sipped at his drink some more.

“I guess.” Potter glanced around the little shop, looking faintly uncomfortable.

Draco, completely forgetting about his previous promise to be inoffensive, became annoyed.

“If you were hoping to start up a conversation, Potter, I do so hope that your best attempt wasn't ‘how are you’.”

Potter raised an eyebrow at him. “And what would you suggest?”

“Well,” Draco rested his elbow on the table, and set his jaw against his fist, “definitely not ‘how are you’. That's the kind of impersonal question you ask people you don't actually want an answer from. Pleasantries.” He waved his hand flippantly. “If you expect a real response from me, you'll have to ask something that makes me feel as though you're actually interested in receiving one.”

Potter, making a face that looked like the beginnings of a smile, copied Draco by resting his jaw in his palm.

“Is that how it is?” he asked. “Well, then let me rephrase that. What are you doing here?”

Draco blinked. “Jumping right to the serious questions, are we?”

“You said not to be impersonal,” Potter quirked the corner of his lips, “and I don't beat around the bush with people I'm personal with.”

Draco considered asking what assaulting greenery had to do with anything, but let it slide.

“To be perfectly honest, If I knew you were going to be the friend Ginevra was bringing, I wouldn't have come. But, being the conniving cow she is, Pansy made sure not to mention your name until we were right outside. Quite the predicament, as I'd already promised her I wouldn't bail, and that if I did, she had rights to Trevor. Generally, I'd be happy to remove the satanic creature from my abode, but Pansy? She'd kill him. She can't even care for a plant, you see.”

“Trevor?” Potter asked.

“My pet.” Draco nodded.

Potter looked faintly amused. “Your pet,” he echoed.

“Oh, Merlin, don't get him started about his pet,” Pansy cut in.

Draco, though he had no intention of going on any rants about his troublesome crup, bristled at Pansy’s clear disdain.

“Excuse me,” he huffed, “was I speaking to you? And I'll talk about Trevor if I damn well please. Merlin knows he's more interesting than you'll ever be.”

“Trevor?” Ginny asked.

“His pet,” Potter supplied.

“His pet crup,” Pansy added. “Out of context, he makes it sound like a dragon. Trevor is his pet crup.”

“Pansy, darling, I think you misspoke.  _ Demon _ . Trevor is a  _ demon _ whom I cannot seem to get rid of.”

“You adore him.” Pansy examined her black nails.

“Want to know how he got his name?” Draco smiled pleasantly. “I was calling for pest control, you see, and I called him ‘trouble’ over the floo. Well, when they came to check out my problem, they assumed he was my pet named  _ Trevor _ . They oh-so-very-helpfully informed me that ‘Trevor’ needed registration papers if I didn't want to lose him, and offered to file them for me. Well, ignoring my claims that the parasite was most definitely  _ not  _ mine, and had simply shown up one day, they filed the papers for me.”

“And now he's stuck with him,” Pansy said.

“And now I'm stuck with him,” Draco agreed.

“If you train him, he shouldn't be too bad,” Potter offered.

Draco glowered darkly.

“Don't,” Pansy warned, but it was too late.

“Trevor is bright green,” Draco began, “and sneezes fire. Safe to say, I believe he was an experiment gone wrong, and I made the mistake of feeding him  _ once, _ and now he won't leave. It was a moment of insanity, I'll agree. Me, feeding helpless woodland creatures? What has the world come to?”

“He’s very dramatic.” Ginny smiled.

“Trevor heats when he gets excited, and I mean that literally. He becomes warm. If I accidentally show too much affection, he can leave scorch marks on the floor, and don't even get me started on how my designer robes became resigner rags in mere seconds.”

“Please,” Pansy agreed.

“Trevor is a  _ menace _ ,” Draco concluded with a scowl, “and though he can be slightly charming  _ once _ every few months-”

“You’ve only had him for a few months,” Pansy pointed out.

“Are you the expert on my home life, now?” Draco sneered at her. “If I recall, I wasn't talking to you.”

“Then stop.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“You two are like children,” Potter said, looking more than a little surprised.

“Draco hasn't changed since he was five,” Pansy explained.

“Shut it,” the blond elbowed her, “and I was a brilliant five-year-old. If only you would be so lucky.”

“Draco peed the bed until he was five,” Pansy said.

“Oh my god,” Draco gaped at her, “are we really doing this? Right now? We’re really doing this right now?”

“He believed in the boogeyman until he was seven.”

“Pansy thought babies were made by a couple sharing drinks until she was, like, eleven.” Draco raised his eyebrows at her in clear challenge.

“One time Draco mistook this random woman for his dad from behind.”

“She was rather masculine in the shoulder area,” Draco said defensively, “and Pansy used to own kneazles. Once she spilled a bowl of their milk and lied down on the floor with them to lap it up like an animal.”

“One time Draco ate one of those scented quills.” Pansy smirked. 

Draco wrinkled his nose reflexively. “It tasted like pure death. Once Pansy and I went to the store together with her parents, and we got separated from them, and we were sure we were going to be lost there forever. We planned our graves in the pastry section, for obvious reasons.” Draco snorted.

“Of course you would remember where we planned our graves.” Pansy sighed.

“He’s very dramatic,” Ginny laughed.

“I’m not  _ that  _ bad,” Draco sniffed.

“You’re not that bad,” Potter agreed with a crooked smile, and Draco’s stomach did an odd little flop. “We all did embarrassing things as children.”

“Do tell.” Pansy fluttered her eyelashes.

“Potty training stories notwithstanding,” Draco added before he sipped at his iced tea.

“Is Trevor potty trained?” Potter asked.

Draco nearly spit out his drink, he whipped up so fast. 

“Now you've done it.” Pansy dropped her head in her hands.

“He’s trained  _ now _ , but  _ Salazar _ . Don't get me wrong, that crup takes to tricks like fish take to water, but then he can't remember to take his shits  _ outside  _ the house? I don't believe it for a second. He's an intelligent crup-”

“Careful, darling, your love for him is rearing its ugly head again.” Pansy smiled sweetly.

“I think it's cute,” Ginny said.

Draco, ignoring them both, kept talking.

“-has this cool trick where does a backflip, but if he tries too many consecutively, his temperature picks up and his tail will start to smoke. It smells sort of like a forest fire, which is interesting- wait, where was I? Oh. Yes. His intelligent brain words 24/7, three hundred sixty days a year-”

“You’ve only owned him a few months,” Pansy felt the need to point out again.

“-but magically shuts off the  _ second  _ he needs to go to the bathroom.”

“He does seem like a rather magical crup.” Potter smiled. 

Draco scowled at him in response. “Stop by and take him off my hands any time, Potter. He's a demon.”

“You know,” Ginny tapped her chin, “I used to have this owl that sprinkled snow whenever she spread her wings. It was a potions accident, some sort of anti-freeze gone wrong.”

“I considered the embers charm.” Draco turned to her, looking genuinely interested. “It's purpose is to temporarily turn the wizard into a living heater. In cold temperatures, you can imagine, any charm, whether it makes you sneeze fire and smoke the warmer you get, is valuable. That being said, it's possible someone cast it on my crup-”

“You said ‘my crup’, just now.” Potter smirked.

Draco stiffened. “No, I said  _ the  _ crup. I don't- he's not-”

“Admit it, Draco. You adore him.” Ginny grinned.

“He does.” Pansy sipped at her drink in a vain attempt to hide her grin.

“You're all terrible,” Draco muttered sulkily into his cup. But Potter snorted, and Ginny laughed, and Pansy’s smile didn't look as deceptive as it did genuinely warm. For a reaction like that, the blond couldn't stay too grumpy, and the rest of the coffee date went by very quickly, and soon enough, they were preparing to part ways.

As Ginny and Pansy said their goodbyes, Draco turned to Potter, who was watching him.

“I had a good time,” Potter said.

“I'm good company, nowadays.” Draco smiled in a way he knew would be more charming than condescending, though a little mix of both.

“I haven't seen you around much.” Potter stuffed his hands in his pockets, and though the action momentarily distracted the blond, Potter was still watching him when he glanced back up.

“I'm on probation,” Draco said. “I can't cause anymore trouble. Well, the serious kind, anyway,” he flashed a little smirk, “but it's not too hard to realize that you and I don't always mix too well.”

“You've been avoiding me,” Potter said more than asked.

“Not necessarily,” Draco lied. “We may live nearby, but I believe we leave and return at entirely different times.”

“You must have seen me out and about at some point.” Potter was frowning at him. 

Draco stared back at him in open surprise. “I didn't think you would want to see me,” he admitted. “I'll say hi next time.”

Potter’s lips quirked. “Do that. Today was fun.”

“It's always a fun day when Pansy’s there to tell everyone my embarrassing moments. As if people haven't seen enough of those.” He rolled his eyes, but his smile was affectionate.

“You've changed,” Potter said.

“I  _ am _ older than five, if you'd like check.” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, since the War. You've changed.” Potter was staring at him again. “That's to be expected, I guess, but I didn't expect that.”

Draco considered getting annoyed, or not replying at all, but instead, he carefully considered his answer before saying it aloud.

“People are shaped by their surroundings. Friends, family, wealth, opportunities. My surroundings changed, and so did I. Though, I suppose I'm putting that lightly.” Draco averted his eyes from the green ones staring back at him, momentarily eyeing the way Pansy brushed her hand against Ginny’s face a couple feet away. The action looked so affectionate, he was a little confused by it. “It wasn't easy, but I felt it was necessarily to change, especially when even I didn't like myself anymore.”

“And you like yourself now?” Potter asked.

Draco hummed contemplatively, then smiled a little smile. “I'm not  _ that _ bad.”

The left side of Potter’s smile lifted higher than the right side, making it charmingly crooked.

“You’re not that bad,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	2. Park Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the first chapter, this one doesn't stand alone and isn't nearly as satisfying to read by itself. This pattern will continue on for a bit, sorry!

The next time Draco saw Potter, it wasn't to sit in on Pansy and Ginny's date, but when he was walking Trevor by a little park near their apartment complex. Potter was helping a loud child with peculiarly bright hair swoop higher than was probably safe on the swings.

Reluctant to head over, he remembered his promise and decided he should. It had been around a week since they last spoke, which felt far too recent considering how long he'd gone without speaking to Potter before, but he, hesitantly, hoped to changed that.

The original plan had been to avoid confrontation with Potter in order to avoid fighting. Well, if Potter wasn't going to start a fight and actually desired Draco's presence, then really, what was stopping him?

_He may have just been being polite._

Draco ignored the doubt, as Potter wasn't one to do things simply for the sake of being polite, especially where Draco was involved.

With this thought in mind, Draco walked over to the two boys and quietly sat on a bench a few yards away from them, watching quietly. He didn't want to intrude on their moment, but didn't want to spook either of them by awkwardly hovering nearby, either.

Trevor, ever the social butterfly, eagerly pulled on his leash to approach the strangers, but Draco gently tugged him back and was content to watch the crup aimlessly trot around before, with a yawn, settling down beneath the bench and lying in the shade it created.

After a few more rough pushes, Potter stepped back with a laugh, his deep voice synchronizing with the higher tones of the boy on the swing whose feet were swinging wildly as he flew higher and higher. Draco momentarily worried for the boy's safety before he remembered what Potter's forte was, and figured there were cushioning charms already in place should things go pear shaped.

Turning on his heel, Potter glanced at Draco and stopped, surprise filtering over his face, before he continued his approach.

"Malfoy," he greeted.

"Potter." Draco tilted his head politely in response.

"What brings you out here?" Potter asked, sliding his hands in the pockets of his muggle jeans. Draco wore similar apparel, as robes simply weren't convenient for walking crups.

"Trevor," Draco scoffed, nudging the dozing pup with his foot and watching in amusement as he, with a start, scrambled up and out from beneath the bench to begin poking Potter in the thigh with his nose.

"Woah," Potter breathed, looking lost for a moment before he began rubbing Trevor behind the ears. "He's much bigger than I imagined."

"How did you imagine him?" Draco asked, curious. Trevor could reach Potter's hip if he were sitting, back straight and head held high (much to Draco's pride and joy, the crup had Malfoy-worthy posture), but when standing, could comfortably reach Potter's groin. Draco had always been on the tall side, so the canine didn't appear quite so large from his eyes.

"Honestly?" Potter laughed a little at the enthusiastic greeting, giving the green crup a few more strokes before sitting beside Draco. "I imagined a small, yappy thing. Trevor looks quite majestic, actually," Potter mused, no doubt appreciating the dog's soft, seafoam colored fur.

Draco couldn't help his smug smile.

"Careful, Malfoy," Potter smirked, "you're preening."

Draco scoffed. "It's relieving to know this beast has some redeeming qualities. His fur and eyes almost make up for his smoking tail. Luckily, he's not too excited yet, or we'd be in legitimate danger."

"His eyes?" Potter asked, belatedly attempting to catch the distracted pup's attention.

"They're also green," Draco said.

"You like his green eyes?" Potter snorted. "How Slytherin of you."

Draco shrugged. "I suppose. I find green eyes fascinating in general."

Potter turned to stare at him and Draco awkwardly shut his mouth and looked at the suddenly fascinating tree in the distance because wow, Draco, real smooth.

Luckily, Trevor interrupted by, with a huff at being ignored, rudely and roughly pushing between their legs to settle beneath the bench once more.

Potter smiled at the pup's antics, and outright laughed at Draco's expression.

"I raised you," Draco addressed the crup, embarrassed and affronted, "and this is how you treat me?"

"How old is he, by the way?" Potter asked.

"Supposedly only a year old," Draco snorted. "Must have been a rather large pup. That, or he grows fast. What about that one?" Draco nodded his head in the direction of the boy, still unaware of his presence, swinging joyously on the swings.

"Teddy?" Potter asked. "Your cousin," he clarified.

"Yes," Draco nodded, "my cousin whom I, regretfully, do not know well enough to remember the age of."

"Sorry," Potter ran a hand through his hair, "that was rude. Teddy's about seven, now."

Draco hummed with a nod. "Seven was a magical age."

"Yeah?" Potter asked, absentmindedly wiping his glasses in his shirt.

"I'm pretty sure Pansy asked me to marry her when we were seven," Draco squinted into the distance, as if to aid his memory, "and mother was going through a bird phase."

"Bird phase?" Harry inquired.

"Do tell me if I'm boring you," Draco suddenly blurted, only just realizing he was talking an awful lot more than was probably appreciated.

"I will," Potter said, quirking his lips in a smile. "Bird phase?" he repeated.

Oddly flustered, Draco quickly explained, "She would wear hats with taxidermied birds of all sizes and colors, often choosing outfits to match her hats instead of hats to match her outfits. I'd thought them brilliant until I realized they were, well, essentially carcasses. Just without all the helpful organs that gave them life, and breath, and the freedom to _not sit on Mother's beautiful head all day long_ , staring down at me predatorily with those fake, beady eyes." Draco shivered.

"Interesting," Potter managed after a few coughs that sounded suspiciously like barely stifled sniggers.

Draco shoved him in the shoulder. "Think that's funny, do you? What about you, Mr. Fearless. How were you at seven?"

"Certainly not fearless," Potter said after a moment, looking abruptly sobered.

Before Draco could inquire further, or perhaps apologize, though he hadn't any idea why, they were interrupted by a bout of laughter and the telltale sound of small feet bounding over to the bench.

"Harry!" a young voice yelled. "Did you see me land? I landed on my feet, this time!"

"Like a cat," Potter agreed, though he and Draco both knew they hadn't even glanced in that direction. "Much better than your face, like last time."

"It's improvement," Teddy agreed seriously, then jumped when a wet nose poked out from between Harry and Draco's legs to nudge his knee. "Ah!" Teddy squealed as Trevor quickly swept out from beneath the bench, all tongue and a furiously wagging tail. Draco managed to pull him back before the dog all out tackled the giggling boy.

"The more you scream, the more excited he gets," Draco explained with a frustrated glare at the tugging crup. "Trevor, you brute, behave yourself. If you want him to like you, you have to act like you have manners, yeah?"

And with that, the pup at least understood he was being admonished, and obediently planted his bum on the ground. Said bum wriggled as his tail was still whipping back and forth as though powered by a motor, but he wasn't pushing or poking the child anymore, which was improvement indeed.

"Trevor?" Teddy repeated, finally looking at Draco. "Who are..."

His hair, which had turned brown, turned bright yellow once more.

"You're my cousin!" Teddy gasped. "I've seen pictures of you!"

"All flattering, I hope." Draco flashed a charming smile. "Draco," he held out a hand.

"Teddy." Teddy puffed out his chest and accepted the hand, hair paling from canary yellow to a pale golden color. Platinum blond, really. Malfoy blond.

Harry sniggered, and Draco was duly impressed.

"What?"

"Your colors changed again, buddy," Harry said.

"I think he looks rather dashing," Draco put in, and watched in slight confusion as both the boy and his hair turned a pinkish color.

Mercifully drawing the blond's attention away from his flustered godson, Harry cleared his throat.

"Y'know, Malfoy, Teddy and I were just going out to eat. Care to join us?" he offered. "We'd gladly wait if you need to run back home and return Trevor."

Draco's heart did an odd stutter, as though it tripped and skipped a beat.

Fuck.

"Sadly," Draco began, mentally asking himself what the hell, because no, he didn't have any other plans, "I have other responsibilities to attend to."

Sweeping up in a single, smooth moment, Draco tugged on Trevor's leash.

Teddy's crestfallen expression and Harry's frown made the blonde hesitate.

"But maybe... sometime soon?" he offered. "I don't have any other plans, say, Wednesday evening?"

"I'll be with Gran wednesday," Teddy whined.

"I'll convince her." Harry winked at the little boy, and Draco's heart did that odd tripping thing again that left him mildly concerned for his health, both physically and mentally.

 


	3. Dinner Date

The next time Draco saw Potter was Wednesday evening.

“Reservation?” the witch at the desk inquired politely, giving him an appreciative once-over.  
Draco blinked inelegantly.

He’d never been to the restaurant before, and realizing it was the kind that required a reservation made him hesitate. He hadn’t dressed particularly nicely, and though he always took care to look his best, he would have preferred to at least have cast some taming charms on his hair, which was currently windswept from the breeze he’d experienced when entering the surprisingly refined establishment.

Which begged to question, was he in the right place? It didn’t really seem like Potter’s cup of tea, and he hadn’t been told of any reservations in the owl he’d received earlier that morning.

“Sir?” the witch repeated patiently, apparently done ogling the man.

“Sorry,” the blond shook his head in an attempt to pull himself together.

Even dressed too casually, even if he turned out to be in the wrong place, he was still Draco Malfoy, and as such, would handle the situation with charm.

“Let me try this again,” he gave her an embarrassed smile which, he noticed with triumph, made the girl giggle. “Draco Malfoy,” he introduced, “and I’m dining with Harry Potter?” he asked more than answered. His father would never approve of his meekish voice, of course, but Draco knew the teenage girl better than his father. Which was clear, as with a simple brush of his forelock and flutter of his pale eyelashes over his bright eyes, the girl was nearly swooning.

“Right this way,” she breathed, face aflush, and lead him through several classy dining rooms to smaller booths in the back. Draco followed in awe, and understanding dawned upon him when they reached their destination.

Potter and Teddy were in a single-roomed booth, doodling on coloring pages with enchanted crayons, supposedly as means of entertainment until Draco showed up. Although dark blue, the walls sufficiently lit the room with glowing sea creatures lazily swimming along said walls. 

It was then that Draco understood the appeal a child might find in such a place, and realized, no, Potter wasn’t trying to woo him or any such rot. This setting had been chosen for Teddy’s enjoyment, which lifted a weight - of what, he wasn’t sure - off his shoulders.

Then Potter looked up from his crude crayon drawing with the leftover grin on his face and amusement in his eyes from time with his godson, and Draco kind of wished Potter actually had been trying to impress him.

“Malfoy!” Potter greeted with surprising enthusiasm.

“Potter,” Draco replied, voice more subdued, though he smiled.

Teddy excitedly pat the space beside him on the bench, and Draco sat without a fuss, as he'd initially wanted to sit across from Potter, anyway. The soft illumination from the swaying jellyfish on the walls brought out the premature silvering in Potter’s hair, and made his usually tan skin practically glow. And, well, no one needed to know Draco noticed. He was merely sitting beside his cousin, was all.

“Sorry for arriving so late,” Draco began as soon as he sat. “I've never been here before, and honestly wasn't expecting some place as nice as this. I was... skeptical I was in the right restaurant,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Teddy wanted to impress you.” Potter waved away his apology easily, then jumped with a startled noise. He turned to Teddy, eyebrows raised in surprise, and Draco summarized that the boy had kicked him under the table.

“Harry!” Teddy whispered loudly, face bright red. “Shut up!” He scowled, and he looked so much like a little Malfoy that Draco couldn't help smirking.

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Harry asked honestly.

With a growl, Teddy grumpily turned back to his drawing, and Potter sent Draco a helpless look from across the table.

 _What did I do?_ he mouthed.

Draco shook his head, smirking. Though somewhat strange, he found Teddy’s interest in him cute, and the fact that Harry couldn't recognize the signs was also cute, in its own way which Draco refused to look too deeply into.

“What are you drawing?” Draco asked, instead.

“Jellyfish,” both boys answered, and Draco smiled.

“Can I see?” He leaned in to do just that, anyway, and stared in disturbed fascination at the stringy things writhing around on the paper. “Merlin,” he breathed, and Teddy howled with laughter.

“I told you they were bad, Harry!” Teddy said, too loudly for the small room.

Draco sat up straight. “Potter?” he asked Teddy, then turned to the man in question. “There's no bloody way.”

“Shut up,” Potter scowled, cheeks darkening. “I was just fooling around,” he insisted.

“These are mine,” Teddy announced proudly as he pointed to his paper, and Draco admired the mediocrely drawn jellyfish squiggling around playfully. 

“They're good,” Draco praised, “both the lining and the colors.”

Teddy flushed and ducked his head, suddenly shy.

Potter crossed his arms and casually leaned back, but Draco got the impression he was put off.

“Cheer up, Potter,” Draco tried and have him a little kick under the table, “I can help you draw a jellyfish,” he promised. “There are even a few conveniently floating around us, which we can use as references.”

“Sod off,” Potter huffed, “I can draw a jellyfish just fine," he said, kicking Draco back.

“Then together, we should be able to draw a bloody brilliant one,” Draco said, kicking him once more.

Potter eyed him for a moment, then grabbed a new piece of paper and some glowing crayons.

“I suppose so,” he agreed, but still gave a smal kick in response. Though, to Draco, this reminded him more of an animal butting against him than an attack.

As Draco began lightly sketching the general shape--he honestly didn't trust Potter’s artistic ability--of the jellyfish, Teddy began badgering him with questions.

“So how did you and Harry meet?” he asked.

"At the platform Nine and three-quarters. I insulted him and crushed his dreams within the first minutes of meeting him,” Draco said easily, and Potter snorted as he began darkening Draco’s light lines where he was told to do so.

“What!” Teddy gasped. “Why?”

Too distracted to come up with a witty response as he began drawing the frilly part of the sea nettle jellyfish, Draco answered the question honestly. 

“At that point in my life, I'd been to more of my father’s business parties than my friends’ birthday parties, and learned that adults wanted me to act like my father, so I did. When I saw Potter for the first time at the train station to Hogwarts, I wanted to befriend him, so as I usually did when nervous or intimidated by someone, I tried the tactics that usually worked on my father’s business associates.” Draco shrugged. “Needless to say, didn't quite work out.”

“Why did you want to befriend to me?” Potter asked.

Draco spared him a glance, and Potter stared at him steadily.

Draco looked away and back to the jellyfish slowly taking form before them. He began drawing the thin tentacles when he answered. 

“You'd shown up with the Weasleys, and clearly weren't one of them. Lacking the freckles, the red hair, et cetera. And you looked scared out of your mind.” Draco scoffed at the memory. “You looked like you hadn't a clue where you were or what was going on... But my own knees hadn't stopped shaking since my mother dropped me off, and my friends hadn't found me yet, and I hadn't the slightest idea how to go about doing anything.”

Draco leaned back from his drawing, nodding once in approval before he met Potter’s eyes.

“But there you were, just like me, just as confused, and...” Draco hiked up a shoulder in a shrug, growing self conscious. Merlin, did he ever stop talking? “I don't know. I wanted to talk to you. I was alone, and you had this lonely look about you.” He shrugged again. 

“That sounds romantic,” Teddy said out of nowhere, and Draco choked as Potter began laughing.

Draco was saved from turning any pinker when a waiter finally arrived and took their orders, and the rest of dinner was spent in pleasant conversation, in which Teddy used every lull to his advantage and fired a random question at his cousin.

“Favorite color?”

“Turquoise?” Draco asked more than answered. “I'll wear any color if it's in fashion, I don't have a particular preference. Though, I do seem partial to dark greens and blues.”

“Fashion,” Potter repeated randomly. Draco glanced at him, confused why that particular word had been repeated, as it wasn't particularly strange, but both Potter and Teddy sniggered, so he assumed it was some inside joke.

“Middle name?” Teddy asked as he squinted and tapped his orange crayon against his lips, as if impersonating some Auror investigator. Though what he thought he would gain from learning Draco’s middle name, he wasn't sure.

“Lucius Abraxas,” Draco said, “Draco Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. Though, many have also called me gorgeous.” He winked.

“As kids,” Harry cut in, “we used to call you Draco sodding Malfoy.”

“And we used to call you Harry bloody Potter,” Draco said, voice delighted. “Now you and I can have cutesy nicknames, too! Weasel and I can't be the only ones, after all.”

Potter snorted into his cup. “He still calls you ferret, too.”

“How can you two make nicknames for each other,” Teddy began, voice curious, “if you don't call each other by your first names?”

Potter and Draco both stared at him.

“We've always used surnames,” Draco said, slowly. “He says, ‘Malfoy’,” Draco impersonated Potter with an unnecessarily deep and gruff voice, “and I reply with a polite, ‘Potter, how nice to see you!’ And I'm also usually armed with baked goods and pastries, because I'm just such a nice guy- Wait, that's the ending to a different story.”

“I'll say,” Potter huffed a short laugh. “No, Teddy, we've just used them since school, and never quite stopped.”

“You should,” the boy suggested, sipping at his twirly straw. “You guys didn't get along in school, but you do now, so you can move past last names. Right?”

Draco slid his eyes to Potter, who was already staring back on him. With an odd smile, the

Gryffindor held out a hand.

“Draco,” he said.

Draco clasped it with a nod, fighting the urge to shiver at the sound of his name coming from Harry's lips.

“Harry,” he replied, and Potter’s smile turned charmingly crooked again, and Draco’s stomach did a swoop that felt less like a trip up, and more like inevitability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are literally my favorite people omg


	4. Crumpets and Tea

“Three stirs, counter-clockwise, then add the nightshade paste, newt heart, peacock powder, knolluck liver, and goat brain, finely diced.”

“Sounds appetizing,” Pansy replied dryly, reclining in her chair. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Draco ignored her, levitating a dollop of the lavender colored paste and lizard heart into the bubbling cauldron. When it began to froth, he sprinkled some peacock powder over the top, waiting for the bubbles to settle before he carefully dropped the liver into the concoction. As it began changing color, he quickly began dicing the brain into smaller pieces with the precision of a surgeon. 

Or psychotic chef, Pansy wasn't sure.

After Draco sprinkled the goat parts into the brew, he set it under a stasis charm and finally turned to face her. “I think I'm falling for Potter.”

“Then watch your step,” Pansy replied without missing a beat. 

How she could drink tea when his potion’s apron was sprinkled with blood and other unknown substances, Draco wasn't sure.

“I mean, I might be developing a torch for him,” Draco drawled with a false calm, disinterestedly glancing at his nails.

“I know,” Pansy said, and Draco choked on his spit. “I've known since school,” she rolled her eyes, “and I mean it - watch your step. I know you haven't looked at anyone the way you look at him since, well, ever, but Potter? Potter’s been in and out of relationships. He has experience, preferences, and options.”

“The way I  _ look  _ at him?” Draco asked incredulously, flushing from head to toe.

“When you used to fight at school, you were practically salivating, you kinky arse,” Pansy replied. “You like getting under his skin because you like his reactions. You never went out of your way to pick fights with other people, just Potter. That's when I knew he did something for you.”

“ _ I  _ didn't even know until recently, how could you-”

“I didn't think you fancied him,” Pansy assured, “just that you probably wouldn't abhor shagging him as much as you often let on. This development, while not predicted, isn't as surprising to me as it may be to you,” she explained gently.

Draco slumped against the doorway he'd been leaning against, and when Pansy beckoned him over, he wordlessly scourgified his apron and joined her at the tea table.

“I'm not saying you shouldn't pursue this,” she said, “I think it could be worth trying. To get it out of your system, if anything.”

Draco raked a hand through his hair, grimacing when he felt the loose ringlets beginning to form. Humidity always did that, and with a flick of his wand, the hair was dry and brushed out once more.

“I don't even know if Potter’s interested,” he murmured belatedly.

“Make him interested,” Pansy replied as if it would be easy.

He couldn't help wondering if it would be.

“And this doesn’t seem rushed to you?” he prodded.

Pansy huffed. “Not in particular, no. Does this bother  _ you _ ?”

Draco reclined in his chair and laid an arm over his eyes with a sigh.

“Stop with the dramatics, you know he’s got one hot piece of arse.”

Draco sat up straight with a scandalized gasp.

“ _ Pans _ ! Yes, he’s a rather  _ attractive  _ bloke, but never have I ever  _ objectified  _ Potter in such a way. He’s more than  _ just  _ a delectable arse.”

“I never called it delectable.”

“Excuse me, my tongue must have slipped. I meant  _ detestable  _ arse.”

“That must have been it.”

Pansy smirked at Draco’s expression, his eyelashes innocently fluttering beneath his raised, aristocratic eyebrows.

“But, I mean,” he continued, abruptly draping himself over the tea table and raising a hand to shield his lips, as if to conspire. “Now that we’re no longer enemies, and my own bigoted views have been lifted, my vision has cleared. Potter’s honestly not such a bad guy. Personality-wise, I mean. He’s not  _ funny _ _ — _ _ I’m  _ funny — , but he’s nice, yeah?”

Pansy raised an eyebrow, her lip peculiarly twitching at one side.

“Yes, Potter’s a relatively  _ nice  _ man.”

“And physically. Physically, he’s not the worst bloke?”

Pansy sipped at her tea, though to stall or to hide her twitching lips, Draco wasn’t sure.

“Yes, Potter’s not absolutely horrid to look at.”

“Yes, yes, but he’s rather sub-par, wouldn’t you say?”

“And why would I ever say that?”

“Potter’s not more attractive than me, yeah?”

Pansy’s lips finally broke into a wide grin, the kind that showed off her smile lines (though she called them wrinkles) and drew attention to her characteristic nose.

“I’ll take that as a no, which means he’s perfect for me, wouldn’t you say?” Draco’s grin was just as wide.

Pansy laughed. “Why, yes. Yes, I would say. You need  _ something  _ on Potter if you want to attempt any kind of relationship with him, after all. Honestly, what could he find interesting about you other than your looks?”

“ _ Exactly  _ what I was wondering,” Draco agreed, munching on a crumpet. 

Who brought the crumpets? He certainly hadn’t, and Pansy would never buy any when he’d previously promised her to treat them to tea. Perhaps he’d forgotten he bought them? There would be a receipt somewhere, should he bother looking, he was sure.

“But, I mean,” Draco continued after swallowing. “If I  _ were  _ going to try and see whether I’m  _ actually  _ interested in Potter and not just, you know, infatuated with the thought of him, how would I go about doing so?”

“What ever do you mean, darling? Have you not seduced men before?” Pansy’s eyes were coy.

Draco waved his hand flippantly. “I’m not going to seduce Potter. Salazar knows I can — Salazar  _ knows _ _ — _ , but Potter’s got a kid.”

Pansy nearly spit out her tea. “ _ What _ !”

“His godson, actually. My cousin.”

Pansy unruffled her feathers, huffing. “Go on,” she prompted grumpily.

“Potter’s a good guy,” Draco admitted, “a genuinely good guy. He takes Teddy to the park every time he sees him, and treats Teddy to fancy restaurants just because the kid wants to, and somehow still has the patience to talk to possibly  _ vaguely  _ familiar passers-by and their obnoxious crups.”

“Sounds like relationship material,” Pansy agreed slowly.

“And we’re friends now,” Draco explained. “I’m pretty sure. Eighty percent sure.”

Pansy looked surprised. “Are you, now?”

“Well, now that you’re giving me that look, I’m down to like sixty-three percent certain, thanks.”

“No, Draco, this is good! If you’re so worried about your possibly genuine interest in knocking Potter’s socks off-”

“My  _ what _ ?”

“-and you’re already friends, then the next step is to become even closer friends, yeah? Potter’s only had legitimate relationships with those he’s close to.”

“And what would you know about legitimate relationships, Pans?” Draco drawled.

She looked confused. “Excuse me?”

“Still baiting Ginevra?”

“Bai- Oh! Oh, no. She wanted too much from me.”

“Your commitment? Love? Or maybe your attention for more than short, meaningful spurts?”

Pansy snorted. “Something like that. Anyway, don’t you have a potion to be getting back to?”

“Sadly,” Draco sighed, standing gracefully and gently pulling out Pansy chair. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” she promised, smiling. “Oh, pass me that basket?”

Draco did so, frowning. “You brought the crumpets?”

“That I did. Good, aren’t they?”

“But you don’t cook.”

“Maybe I hired a maid,” Pansy sniffed, lifting her nose. “A very attractive maid. Possibly-very-likely adorned with a skimpy outfit of some sort.”

“Tell her to ditch it,” Draco winked, “it will just get dirty. The most effective method would be to just clean naked, if you really think about it. It  _ will  _ get all over her though, so you may be required to help her reach the less convenient places.”

Pansy stared at Draco for a few long seconds before blinking.

“You’re a genius. Now I remember why  _ I _ have you around, since I’m the prettier of the two of us.”

As Pansy left, Draco’s smile dropped.

Pansy hadn’t let other people make, let alone touch her food since the war. 


	5. Date at Your Place

The next time Draco saw Potter was at the apothecary.

“Malfoy!”

Draco jumped, nearly dropping the jar he'd been looking at. After regaining his grip, he turned to spot none other than Potter waving and striding over. 

Peculiarly, said man’s hair looked messier than usual, and his choice of apparel—a dark, baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants—piqued Draco’s interest. Though Harry never really dressed up, as far as Draco knew, he had never degraded himself to wearing sweats in public before.

“Potter,” he greeted, heart calming from his initial surprise.

“Or,” Potter said as he came to stand beside the blond, “I should say Draco, yeah?”

Draco’s heart picked up again.

“What are you doing out this glum Saturday?” he asked, instead. “It was pouring, last I checked.”

“It is,” Harry laughed a little, “but Teddy’s puking out his guts and the only thing I know about illnesses is that soup usually helps.”

Draco tilted his head, looking at Potter contemplatively. He didn't raise an eyebrow or show any other reactions to imply he was questioning Potter’s mental health, but merely blinked at him for a second, because soup most certainly did not heal illnesses, as far as Draco knew, and he wondered whether such was a muggle proverb.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” the blond decided wisely, “except that this is a potion apothecary, and I don't believe it sells soup.”

Potter had the decency to look sheepish. “I was looking for a sleeping draught, actually. See, Teddy won't stop whining and puking, so I thought-”

“Surely you weren't about to give a vomiting child sleeping draught, considering asphyxiation is a legitimate concern,” Draco replied slowly, eyes wide.

“What? No-  _ no _ , it’s for  _ me _ ,” Potter spoke quickly, waving his arms. “Teddy’s old enough to go to the loo when he needs it, and other than that, he's just treating me like his butler. He doesn’t  _ really  _ need chocolate every couple minutes, either. But, I could never sleep normally, knowing he could need my help, and-”

“You look dreadful,” Draco agreed, pointedly staring at Potter’s less than polished appearance.

“I haven't been sleeping,” Potter admitted, raking a hand through his bird’s-nest hair. “A nap is definitely in order.”

“Well,” Draco began hesitantly, “a sleeping draught, no matter the dose, will make you sleep deeply. Even if you only take enough to sleep for five minutes, you'll be dead to the world for those five minutes. If you dilute the concentrated mixture with something else, like tea, it will keep you a little more aware. Should Teddy really need you, all he’ll need to do is shake you, or yell very loudly.”

“That's...” Potter blinked. “That's both helpful and disturbing. What if he can't reach me? He'll have to  _ scream  _ for me to wake up? Bloody hell.”

“You can't tag-team someone else to watch him while you nap?” Draco inquired, leaning his hip against the shelves.

Harry sent him a dry look.

“Quite unpopular, aren't you?” Draco smirked.

“Well, what are you shopping for?” Potter asked. “Alone,” he clarified, eyes innocently wide. 

Draco glared at him. “I’d have plenty of offers if I bothered to ask,” he assured. “However, I don’t require company when simply going out to shop for potion ingredients.”

“Potions,” Harry repeated before brightening visibly. “Potions! You must know a recipe to help Teddy, yeah?”

“I,” Draco took a second to really consider that question, taken aback. “I suppose.”

“Why don’t you come by, then?” Harry was smiling widely. “Teddy would like that, even when he’s possibly contagious, slimy with snot and puke, hot to the touch-”

“Such a tempting offer,” Draco drawled, “however, I have a quota to meet-”

“Consider it, Draco? Please?” Harry asked, smile smaller, but sincere. “I know this is out of the blue and kind of intimidating, but Teddy would really appreciate the help, if you could possibly find some time. Even if you’re no expert, I can guarantee you know more about caring for sick, young wizards than I do.”

Draco bit his lip, furrowed his eyebrows, and really tried very hard to pretend he was mulling the idea over in his head when, to be perfectly honest, the second Harry said  _ Draco  _ and  _ please _ and smiled like  _ that _ , he’d been won over.

“I suppose,” Draco conceded slowly, “I could find a  _ little  _ time in my schedule for helping those in need.”

Harry smiled again, ruffled his hair again, and gently took Draco’s hand, which the blond hoped would eventually have an  _ again  _ attached to it as well.

“Need anything before I side-along you?” Harry asked politely.

“My patience,” Draco said.

“What patience?” Harry asked, all innocence once more, and Draco scowled and squeezed his hand in retaliation. To the blond’s surprise and inner pleasure, Harry squeezed his hand right back.

“Some potions,” he murmured eventually, thoughts still askew.

Harry nodded without sparing him a glance, and then they disapparated.

* * *

“I’ll need to shower for days,” Draco gasped, clawing at his skin.

“You’re being dramatic,” Harry insisted, “it wasn’t that bad.”

“He projectile vomited-”

“That’s inaccurate wording-”

“-on the  _ ceiling _ -”

“-that could have been there before Teddy even got here, you wouldn’t know. Stop pointing fingers.”

“This isn’t a question as to who,” Draco replied with a sneer, “but  _ how _ .  _ How  _ did he sick up above the bed, as well as under it?  _ How  _ did he get sick?  _ How  _ are you going to treat him, considering I’ve no idea what I’m doing. The potions aren’t taking effect as quickly as they should, though that could just be his frayed werewolf immune system trying to fight off any and all foreign bodies so he won't get even more ill-”

“Draco,” Harry placed a consoling hand on his shoulder, “you did well, thank you, stop worrying. It's a little early for soup, but we can make Teddy some jello or something.”

“Jello?” Draco echoed faintly, obediently following Harry into the kitchen.

“It's kind of jelly-like in consistency,” Harry explained, rooting around in his cabinets. For what, Draco didn't know, considering it took fruits to make jelly, if he wasn't mistaken. But he must have been, because Harry grabbed a small cardboard box from his cabinets, and after several mundane steps, it turned into an entirely new substance Draco couldn't even comprehend.

“Wandless magic?” he whispered after Harry tipped the bowl—”You  _ imbecile _ , it's going to spill  _ everywhere! _ ”—and instead of liquid, a squiggly blob of  _ something  _ came out.

Harry laughed, and it was loud and deep and made Draco’s skin prickle.

“Just muggle stuff,” Potter assured, looking terribly amused. “I'll have to make you instant pudding sometime.”

Draco instantly perked up. “Pudding?”

Harry laughed again.

“Chocolate is my favorite,” Draco continued, casually scooting into a chair at Harry's table and scooping a glop of Teddy’s ‘jello’ into a bowl. “I'm allergic to chocolate, though, so mother would never let me eat it as a child.”

“You're allergic to chocolate?” Harry asked, intrigued. He sat in the chair across from Draco, leaning his cheek in his palm as he watched the blond jiggle the jello in his spoon before putting it in his mouth.

Draco hesitantly bit into the jello, not sure what to expect, but it didn't taste like much, really. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't delicious, either. It was slightly sweet, but not sweet enough for him to really classify it as a sweet. It had hints of sourness, but not nearly enough to really find it sour.

“What flavor is this?” he asked, eyes nearly crossing. What the  _ hell  _ was in his mouth?

“The box said cherry,” Harry said, still watching Draco, “but a lot of people think most jello actually tastes the same. See, tests have been done where they color transparent, classic jello red and yellow, and just because of the colors, people assume the yellow one is sour and lemony, and the red one is sweet like cherry or strawberry, even though the actual jello is flavored the same in both samples.”

“I can understand that,” Draco admitted. “I can also see how people weighed down by an illness may enjoy this, considering they can't taste much, anyway. Some taste actually comes from smell, you see.”

“I thought I saw you eating chocolate before,” Harry said.

“I love chocolate,” Draco agreed. “I may require medicine should my allergy react strongly to it, but I won't stop eating it. I’d rather suffer through my puffy eyes and stomach cramps than life without chocolate. I love chocolate,” he repeated.

“So you’ve said. Repeatedly. Should you really be telling me your weaknesses so early on in our relationship?” Harry asked, smiling. “That sounds dangerous.”

“I could be up for a little danger.”

Potter snorted and wandlessly summoned another spoon. 

“No, but really,” Draco continued, “I feel like... This thing you're trying to do? Where we're not quite enemies anymore, and kind of friends? Well, I secretly think it's not so bad. So I’m subtly trying to open up to you without coming on too strong, because I’m not sure if you can handle me yet, to be honest. Secretly. I’m not trying to make a big deal out of it. Play it cool, Harry. Don’t get all soppy on me.”

Potter took a spoonful of jello.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he said, playing it real casual, but the crinkle of his eyes and the tilt of his smile gave him away.

Draco felt faint, and he knew for certain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely feedback! I laughed and smiled at quite a few of your comments, haha
> 
> Quick survey: Does this relationship seem to be moving quickly?
> 
> I strongly dislike stories with unbelievable relationship development, but it's admittedly harder for me to recognize it in my own work because I spend so much time imagining scenes where Draco and Harry are already together. 
> 
> But the fun is all in the chase! We've still a little ways to go and a few more fun times before we reach the finish line (Draco still needs to level up from FRIEND to BESTEST FRIEND, HOT DAMN), but if any of you aren't feeling the love just yet, I'd be interested in hearing about it! What parts make them still seem platonic friends? (Or do you not even consider them friends yet?)
> 
>  
> 
> (I've no idea why there are 2 author's notes @ the end lmao. Ignore the next one, it was from the 1st chapter)


	6. Date at My Place

The next time Draco saw Potter, he was eyeing a display of brooms through a store window when the blond happened upon him. Warm rain poured down, and Potter had a muggle device over his head as a shield from the water. An "umbrella," Draco believed they were called.

"How's Teddy?" Draco asked.

Potter jumped, nearly dropping his 'umbrella', and turned to Draco with a scowl on his face.

"Good morning to you, too," Draco murmured, eyebrows raised.

"Have you never heard of a greeting?" Potter growled, briskly rubbing his left arm with his available hand. "You gave me goosebumps, you sod."

Draco grinned widely. "Do I give you goosebumps often?" He leaned in. "Do you know what that means?"

Potter pushed his shoulder away roughly, looking quite peevish. "You're acting more annoying than usual this morning."

"Was it the lack of greeting?" Draco feigned hurt. "Well good morning, Harry. How ever was your evening, after I left yesterday? Dreadful, I'm sure, as what is any day without my presence? That being said, how is that godson of yours? Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as of yet?"

Harry cracked a smile. "He's feeling better, though he was awful embarrassed when I told him you'd visited while he was asleep. He asked whether I could legally obliviate you."

Draco couldn't stop a pig-like snort, instead of his usual scoff-like sound, which made Potter break out in laughter.

"Excuse me," Draco mumbled, a little embarrassed himself.

"No, no, you just-" Potter wheezed, face red, "you looked so surprised-"

"Do you think I make noises like that often?"

His defensive response, of course, only make Potter laugh harder, clutching his sides, and when his umbrella dropped, Draco grabbed it before it could hit the mud.

"Sod off, Potter, as if you've never snorted in your goddamn life-"

"It wasn't-" he sniggered uncontrollably, "it wasn't the s-snort, it was your face- I can't- I-"

Draco, face flushed in shame, considered kicking the hunched man over. Instead, he rested the umbrella's handle against his shoulder, raised his nose, and walked off with his head held high. He may have twirled the muggle contraption as he walked.

He left Potter chuckling like a madman in the rain.

* * *

 

Draco answered the door of his apartment with a wry look on his face.

Potter, smiling sheepishly, had a bag in his hand. "Sorry?"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Gin said I should apologize with flowers—I think she's under the impression you're a girl, based on how I retold your reaction. Sorry 'bout that—, but I distinctly remembered someone telling me you liked chocolate."

As Potter held out the bag, Draco couldn't resist and gently took it from his hands.

"Love. I love chocolate."

"Sorry. Tongue must have slipped," Harry replied, face grave. "Can I come in? My impervious charm sucks arse."

"What happened to your umbrella?" Draco asked nonchalantly, canting his hip up against the doorway as he leaned against it, arms crossing.

Harry frowned. "I don't know, actually. When I regathered myself, it was gone. I assumed you took it."

"Why on earth would I need an umbrella?"

"Well, when you say it like that, I suppose you wouldn't."

"I don't own an umbrella," Draco replied dryly.

"Funny, at the moment, neither do I. Can I come in?" He repeated, smile cocky. The little shit knew Draco would let him in.

Rolling his eyes, Draco stopped blocking the doorway and turned to head back inside. Potter followed, shutting the door behind him quietly.

Draco watched him, watched how Harry politely hung up his coat on the nearby coat rack and apathetically glanced around Draco's apartment. He glanced at the stairs, at the thick railing leading to the unlit second floor, and then glanced at Draco, seemingly having noticed he was being watched.

"Nice place," he said. Simple words, making Draco narrow his eyes.

"'Nice' as in, not your taste but okay, or 'nice' as in fuck-ugly but you're too polite to say so."

"You think I'm polite," Potter noted, sticking his hands in his pockets. He looked so bloody sure of himself.

"I meant that you're aware of the danger's you would be in should you insult my home whilst in it."

"In that case, it's a very beautiful home," Potter nodded.

Draco, ignoring him, cast drying charms on Potter so he would cease leaving puddles on his wood floors.

"Shit - sorry, I'm used to just drying off at my house. I rarely use magic at home-"

"How did you find me, by the way?"

"Oh!" Potter exclaimed, suddenly looking terribly embarrassed. "Christ, I must have looked like a real creep—no, Pansy told me where you live. I didn't follow you home or anything. Merlin, sorry, I should have said that straight off."

Draco smiled. "You're ridiculous."

"I brought you chocolate, so." Harry shrugged, as though that made it okay.

It did, of course, but Draco wouldn't reveal that just yet.

"Would you like some tea?" Draco offered. He'd been appeased.

"Don't bother," Potter waved his hand, "I just came to apologize for this morning. I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything - Honestly, you made my day. Not sure if you noticed, but I was a tad, erm, grumpy this morning?"

"A tad," Draco conceded, smirking a little. "Rough night?"

"You've no idea," Harry sighed, making himself right at home and plopping on one of Draco's couches.

The blond rolled his eyes, but didn't comment.

"Well, as long as I made your day, it's fine."

Harry, who'd been scrubbing his face roughly with his hands, peeked between his fingers at Draco, and it was slightly, annoyingly, kind of really adorable. "Did it sound that selfish? Sorry, Draco, you know I didn't mean it that way. I haven't laughed that hard in a while, especially over something so silly. I didn't stop even though you were clearly uncomfortable, and for that, I apologize, but you honestly did improve my day."

"Do I get an award?"

"I got you chocolate."

"Potter, that will not be a cure-all in our relationship."

"What more do you want?" Harry asked, smiling. "I'm sorry," he apologized once more.

"Next time you come by, bring treats," Draco decided.

"More chocolate?" Potter asked, eyes wide. "That was a decent amount right there-"

"For the dog," Draco hissed, face red. "Merlin, how much do you think I eat?"

"You eye that chocolate like a steak," Potter said.

Draco couldn't deny that, so he settled with sticking his nose in the air and crossing his arms.

"You're such a child," Harry said. "Where's my umbrella?"

Draco stiffened, caught off guard."

"Ha!" Potter thrust his finger forward, as if attempting to pin the blond still loitering across the room. "I knew you took it!"

Draco deflated, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Yeah? And how was that?"

"When we spoke of it at the door, you crossed your arms over your chest, an unconsciously defensive gesture you do kind of often."

Draco, perturbed, uncrossed his arms.

Potter, watching him, didn't comment on it and continued. "I figured there was a high possibility you took it, as I would have noticed if a stranger took something of mine this morning as soon as it happened. But, I felt nothing, so I thought of you, especially when you said, 'I don't own an umbrella,' strange wording I noticed immediately, implying you may have one, you simply don't own one. I do appreciate the honesty of that, by the way, though why you took it in the first place, I haven't the foggiest idea."

Draco scowled. "It looked fun and I considered smacking you upside the head with it."

Not really. He just hadn't wanted it to get muddy when Potter dropped it and forgot it in his hand when he left. But Potter didn't need to know that.

Draco continued, "Instead, knowing how much your impervious charm lacks, I simply took your protection against the rain. It was punishment. A marvelously executed, evil scheme. It's not my fault it happened to compliment my outfit. I may or may not have paraded around with it for a while and impressed various onlookers. You've no proof."

Potter shook his head, laughing slightly. "You're ridiculous."

"Recycling my words, are we? And I'm mildly concerned you're paying such close attention to my words and mannerisms."

"Only mildly?" Potter asked, tilting his head a little. "I don't usually," he said, "just when it counts. My umbrella is serious business."

"If you say so."

Potter frowned. "Honest."

"Okay," Draco said, shrugging. He was under the impression Potter was more watchful than he let on, but deemed the subject best to drop, at least for the time being. "Tea?"

"You already offered," Harry said, "I-"

"I know, I'm just used to repeating that question with guests. Most act as though they can't breathe without permission, which I understand is simply their manners, but I also find slightly annoying."

"I noticed you seem to dislike pleasantries and manners," Potter smiled. "You like to get right to the personal stuff, if our reunion was anything to go by."

Draco smiled widely, immensely pleased Potter remembered. "Most of my friends became my friends by simply acting like them. I didn't ask, or question, and neither did they, it simply happened, and we accepted it. Some people take that as me 'coming on too strong,' however. Why people struggle to accustom themselves to me, I'll never understand," Draco sighed dramatically.

"I feel like that's part of why we're getting along," Harry admitted.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "You're lacking competition?"

"What? No, not that you struggle to make friends—which is, truly, a wonder to me-"

"You're an arsehat, Potter."

"-but more the fact that we never had much of an awkward stage between enemies, to non-enemies, to friends. It all felt seamless, and rather natural, which is why we've come to where we are so quickly."

Draco nodded slowly, thoughtfully, but stared blankly forward with no idea what Harry was going on about now.

"Like," Potter began, frowning, "you're sarcastic and kind of mean sometimes, but I understand your odd sense of humor because, when you're not insulting my friends, it's sort of like my own thoughts. I, of course, would just never say them outloud. I have a reputation, after all."

"Who said you didn't say your arseholish thoughts outloud?" Draco wondered.

"And you're dramatic, and into 'fashion'-"

Draco squinted, feeling like Potter was hinting that he was a flamboyant gay, but was too careful to outright say so.

"-and you don't mind shopping alone because you're confident and assured with yourself, which is almost the complete opposite of me, but it almost balances out? Does that..." Potter ran a hand through his hair, frowning harder. "Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Draco nodded, feeling oddly flattered and insulted at the same time.

"No, I mean, I feel like-"

"I get it," Draco assured, smiling a little. "No one wants to be around people just like them. You think we're a good pair because we share enough traits to get along, and differ enough that we aren't boring or butting heads. Anymore. We balance each other, so it feels natural for us to speak as if we've known each other closely for longer than we have."

Potter stared at him, expression hard to explain, so Draco stared right back and tried to decipher it. Relief? Confusion? Frustration? Maybe a mix.

"How did we get to talking about this?" Potter settled with, looking exhausted. Draco felt the same. Drained, emotionally. It was never good to look too closely into their relationship, Draco felt. Just leave it as it was, he felt.

"I offered you tea."

"Which I declined."

"So I was going to offer you crumpets."

"Crumpets?"

"Crumpets."

"Alright."

Draco brought out a little basket of crumpets and some tea for himself. Every time that girl stopped by, she was armed with the baked goods, and as suspicious as Draco was, they were bloody delicious.

Draco sat next to Potter as he ate one, and witnessed as the Gryffindor's expression brightened visibly.

"Ah, Pansy must have brought these."

Draco frowned. "Yes, she did."

"Gin makes them all the time now that she knows how much Pansy likes them."

"And Pansy accepts them?" Draco wondered.

Potter smiled, looking a little confused. "Well, they are dating."

Draco's tea tasted cold, and he gently set the chipped cup down on the tea table once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update because I won't be here Tuesday.
> 
> Question of the week; Favorite flavor of tea, and how do you take it? Lots of sugar? Honey? Milk? _Crumpets_?
> 
> Important question, I promise. ;-)


	7. Sick Date

The next time Draco saw Potter, it was over the floo.

“Oh, hey, Draco,” Harry greeted dully.

The blond raised an eyebrow. “Well. With an enthusiastic response like that, I may just have to withhold my love confession. I wouldn't want you to burst a blood vessel or anything. Please, rein in your excitement.”

Harry sniffed, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry, Dra-a-co,” he murmured, voice sounding odd. “I've been visiting Teddy often this week, and I think I c-caught his cold. I figured you were flooing to ask if we could hang out?”

“Actually, I was flooing to see when you wanted your umbrella back, but if I'm being invited, sure.”

“What? I just said I'm sick.”

“I heard muggles are healed by soup?” Harry made a face, one torn between bemusement and amusement, and Draco squinted into the fire in return. “Sounded bizarre to me as well, but I'm a passable cook, you see, and will use any chance I can get to show you up.”

Harry shook his head, sniffling again. “Really, Draco, I'm a m-mess, I don't want you to see me like this.”

“Too late,” Draco singsonged. “Open up the floo, I'm coming over. We're both grown men, I can handle your kneazle-sniffles and the occasional sneeze.”

Harry merely stared and ran a hand through his hair once more, unmoved.

“I'm good company,” Draco reminded him helpfully. “I promise to clean when I'm done slaving away as well, just in case you were confusing me for one of your other, more pig-like friends.”

Harry sniffed again. “Draco,” he warned.

“I'm not scared of you, Potter,” Draco sighed. “Will you let me do this for you? I'll be in and out in half an hour. If you were any of my other friends, I wouldn't have even asked before breaking and entering, but decided to respect your privacy and ask first.”

“And this has nothing to do with me being an auror who can easily have you arrested for that,” Harry replied dryly.

It hadn't. “Maybe a little,” Draco said.

Harry exhaled long and hard before nodding. “Alright, fine.”

* * *

 

“You seem to be handling Teddy’s cold much better than he is,” Draco noted. He was stirring the tiny cauldron of soup on the stove and peering over his shoulder at Harry, who was straddling the nearby table’s char in order to face him. Said Gryffindor was quietly watching him with droopy eyes.

“No projectile vomiting just yet,” Harry mumbled, eyes fluttering shut before just barely opening once more.

Draco turned back to his pot of soup to hide his smile. This felt domestic. Alluringly so, which was dangerous for him. But, Harry was too out of it to really notice, anyway. Why not indulge a little?

Peeking back at his friend, Draco withheld a snigger at the sight of the lightly dozing auror. He felt a little bad for practically forcing himself over, but, to be fair, he would have minded his own damn business if Harry simply told him he was tired. When hearing something as intriguing as, “I don't want you to see me like this,” Draco couldn't resist from wanting to do just that.

He began to hum a little, as he usually did to calm Trevor when he cooked because the dog lost its top when he cooked on the stove. Strangely enough, the crup seemed to have a fear of fire on anything but his own tail. Draco wondered if that had something to do with the pup’s past.

Lowering the heat wandlessly, Draco moved the pot off the stove area and placed it on the marble countertop. He cooled it, then poured a generous amount in one of Harry’s bowls. The ceramic was decorated with what appeared to be sporadically glowing lava beneath the surface. This, of course, was merely part of the design, but it was Draco’s favorite out of the other bowl options.

Placing the steaming bowl, a spoon, and a glass of water before his sleepy friend, Draco placed the soup under a heating charm and gently, gently prodded Harry in the shoulder.

“Harry,” he called softly, resisting the urge to add any unnecessary endearments.

Green eyes just barely slid open. There was a small grunt, supposedly in reply to his name being called.

Draco rolled his eyes, smiling. “Wake up. I finished the soup, but you can have it after a nap, yeah? Go to bed, you're practically asleep already,” _love_.

Harry sighed, nodded, and made a quickly aborted attempt to get up. He settled with, instead, dropping his forehead to the cool tabletop and encircling his arms around it. He released a long, drawn out groan.

“M’not feeling so good,” he said, voice muffled due to speaking into the table.

“I know,” _beautiful_ , “but you'll feel better after sleeping in bed. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you awake so long. Let's get you to bed.”

Draco gingerly helped Harry stand, then followed the ill man in the direction he assumed the bedrooms were. Harry opened a door and walked into supposedly his bedroom, where he drew back the covers and climbed into bed. Draco followed, not to be creepy, but just so he could check Harry’s temperature before leaving. He wasn't sure if the auror was acting so compliant because of his trust and friendship in Draco, or because his sickness was making him weak and vulnerable.

Harry rolled onto his back with a sigh sounding a lot like relief.

Seeing his moment, Draco reached over and pressed the back of his hand to the heated skin.

Dark eyelashes fluttered open to reveal pools of bright green. “Your hand is cold.”

“You're just hot,” the blond explained. He looked into Harry’s eyes and winked. “You're also temperature-hot, but mostly you're just attractive-hot. Even sweaty and plagued by some unknown, werewolf-child-spread illness.”

Harry huffed out a laugh, shutting his eyes once more.

“But you should be fine,” Draco promised, withdrawing his hand. He held up his wand. “Accio glass of water,” he murmured to himself, and then a glass of the chilled beverage flew into the room and into his waiting hand. Draco wandlessly turned off the lights and drew the curtains, enveloping the room in relative darkness, save for the light shining in from the open doorway. Placing the cup on Harry’s nightstand, Draco noticed he was being watched. “Do you need anything else?” he asked.

Harry shook his head mutely, breathing deeply. “Thank you,” he said, and frowned when hair spilled into his eyes from the previous movement.

“Naturally,” Draco replied distractedly, thoughtlessly reaching over and gently brushing the hair aside. “Your hair looks better when you're sick than it does normally, you know that?” He smiled. “It's less... fluffed. Though, I suppose it's lacking fluffiness reflects your lacking health.”

“Fluffed,” Harry murmured, smile curving on his face. “Why thank you, I try.”

“When it's back to the volume we all know and love, floo me?”

“Naturally,” Harry parroted, smile cheeky.

Draco, with an affectionate huff, ruffled Harry’s sweaty hair. Ignoring the indignant growls he was rewarded with, Draco headed towards the door with a laugh. He left the room, then turned to gently shut the door.

“Draco?” The door was nearly closed, but was stopped just in time by the unexpected call.

“Yes, Harry?” Draco replied, cracking the door open a little further in order to peer inside the dark room.

“Thank you,” he repeated.

“You already thanked me,” Draco reminded, amused.

“I feel like I'm always calling on you for help,” Harry continued, voice growing softer.

“That's what friends are for.”

“I haven't done nearly as much for you,” the brunette argued.

 _That's Harry_ , Draco thought wryly, _ill and bedridden and still arguing._

“That's why I'm already best friend material,” Draco explained. “You're only a ‘close friend’, as of now, but you're close.”

“Am I, now?” Harry asked, voice playful. “How do I level up?”

“Um.” Draco drew a blank. “Defeat the boss of the level?”

“Any helpful cheats?” Harry asked, voice gravely serious. “This battle could be hard.”

“Buy him chocolate.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

"Grey tea."  
"Anything _other_ than food?" Harry laughed.

"Show some skin?" Draco suggested.

Harry barked out a laugh. "Goodbye, Draco."

Draco smiled and gently shut the door. He kept his steps silent as he trekked back to the kitchen and magicked away all the grime from the pots and pans he used. Levitating the newly cleaned containers and dishware back in their proper places, Draco carefully scripted the ingredients he used, and what foods needed replacement on a nearby scrap of paper. Satisfied with his cleanup and handwriting, Draco placed the note next to the soup and turned to leave.

He hesitated.

He quickly wrote some salves and potions on the back of the previous note that he felt may help Harry recover more quickly, as well as where to buy them cheapest.

Acknowledging he was stalling, Draco sighed and put down the pen—of course the plebeian didn't use quills—and left the house of 12, Grimmauld Place with a smile.


	8. Stood Up

The next time Draco saw Potter was the very next afternoon.

He had flooed over unannounced, and was embarrassingly pleased to see he was admitted through without a fuss. Harry had added him to the wards, it seemed, just as Draco had added him to his after his first visit.

Draco wandered over to the kitchen to check on the soup he’d left yesterday, and was even more pleased to find the empty bowl in the sink. He washed it and sent it back in the proper cupboard with the flick of his wand before deciding to search for Harry. As trusting as the Gryffindor was, Draco didn't want to hang around without him there.

After nosing around a bit, he found Harry lying in the couch, supposedly napping, still in his navy colored pajamas. Draco, snorting, approached quietly and brushed aside the dark hair to gently press the back of his hand to an overheated forehead. The temperature had definitely gone down since the day prior, but it was sure to remain an annoyance for another day.

Draco startled when Harry opened his eyes, and immediately landed them on him.

“Hullo, Draco,” Harry murmured, shutting his eyes once more. He seemed completely relaxed in Draco’s presence, not bothering to move the hand from his forehead or question the unscheduled appearance of his friend. Draco, again, wasn't sure whether to find this trust promising or worrisome.

“Afternoon, Harry. Your temperature has gone down, which is good, but I'm sad to say it will likely drag you down for another day. Make sure to drink lots of fluids today.”

Harry smiled. “Of course, Mum. Anything else?”

“Just get some rest, love,” Draco said, pretending to follow the mother roll when really he just wanted an excuse to call Harry something more intimate. He knew he was a horrible person for doing so, but it was either that or make his feelings clear and scare the poor bloke off. In this situation, Draco was scared of coming on too strong. “I won't hang around long, anyway. I know you need your rest.”

Draco made a turn to do just that when there was a tug on his sleeve.

“You've already disturbed me,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Draco frowned. “Oh? You didn't floo me.”

“You said to floo when I was better.”

“Which translates as; Floo me in the morning to assure me you haven't died in your sleep.”

“It's already afternoon, you sure took your time checking,” Potter mused.

Draco frowned more. “I wasn't aware it was my job, not my pleasure.”

It was Potter’s turn to frown back at him. “You're sure treating it like one, forgoing invitation and all. Seems presumptuous of you.”

“I’ve better things to do than waste all my free time babying you, Potter,” he sneered. “If you don't want me here, then say so.”

“Oh, so it's Potter, now?”

“I don't know, _Harry_ , is it?”

“Sit your arse down, Malfoy, we both know you don't have any other plans.”

“My future plans will involve creative ways to rename your medications if you don't clean up your act, fast. Do you know what cyanide smells like, Potter?”

Harry blinked at him, eyes wide. “Ok, wow, I thought we were just joking around.”

“I got that. We are joking around.”

“You just threatened to poison me.”

Draco stared at him for several, long seconds.

“I don't think I did.”

“What? You just said- that thing about cyanide-”

“Cyanide?” Draco echoed, frowning. “Is your fever getting to your head?”

Harry, for a moment, looked as though he were contemplating it. Then, abruptly, he was narrowing his eyes.

“You're having me on.”

Draco couldn't resist the sheepish grin slipping on his face.

“You arse!”

“You're the one who started the argument,” Draco pointed out.

“I'm ill and bored. I didn't want you to leave and I know you have a thing for arguing. I was also feeling slightly wistful of our schoolyard days.”

Draco leaned forward, smirking above Harry who was still lying on the couch.

“I don't have a ‘thing’ for arguing in general, just with you. I'm always up for a round of Insulting-Potter. We can do it all the time, in fact,” Draco suggested, thrilled.

Harry smiled at him dryly. “Sounds fun.”

“I think so.”

“But I also like the nice-you.”

“Oh?”

“Even if he does baby me when I'm sick,” Harry added, smiling.

“Sorry,” Draco grimaced, “I tend to hover.”

“I don't mind it,” Harry admitted, watching him with an open expression. “I've always been one for affection, but you didn't seen like the type to greet with hugs and kisses,” Harry laughed.

Draco wrinkled his nose slightly in distaste. “With _all_ my friends? _Merlin_ , no. Hugs are fine, kisses here and there are fine, but too much affection bothers me.”

“You're scared of _too many_ hugs and kisses?” Harry asked, voice incredulous. “There's no such thing as _too much_ love, Draco. Embrace the affection!”

Draco shook his head, smiling. “That's it. You've officially lost it, meaning you need more rest. I'll-”

“Keep me company?” Harry asked hopefully. He grinned at the blond’s disdainful stare, the cheeky bastard.

But, Draco gave in, as he suspected he would continue to do around Harry.

“I'll read a magazine or something,” Draco conceded with a dramatically put-upon sigh.

“Scoot your fat arse over, Potter, you're taking up the whole bloody sofa.”

Harry laughed, but did scoot over.

Draco spent the afternoon reading aloud (as Harry childishly demanded) from a book he'd plucked from the Gryffindor’s limited bookshelf, and occasionally playing with Potter’s ticklish feet, smiling widely when the result was a harsh kick to the ribs and a growl of, “I told you to stop that.”

“Then get your feet off my lap.”

Harry pretended not to hear him, and Draco rolled his eyes.

After an hour or so of this, Harry removed his feet from Draco’s lap in order to sit up. A few sentences later, he sidled right up next to Draco, as though they didn't have a whole couch to share, and gently rested his head on Draco’s shoulder.

Draco paused. “What's up, buttercup?” he asked playfully.

“M’head hurts,” Harry mumbled.

“Would you like me to get you anything,” Draco offered, speaking quietly. Hurt heads and loud voices did not mix.

Harry shook his head, brushing his hair against Draco’s shoulder. He, just then, reminded the blond acutely of a cat.

“It will make you feel better,” Draco tried.

Harry shook his head again, and Draco wanted to kiss his forehead so badly his lips tingled.

“You're not who I thought you were,” Harry said.

Draco raised an eyebrow, even though the other couldn't see it from his spot on his shoulder. “Is that so?”

“You don't stutter when you read,” Harry said.

“I was taught from an early age,” Draco explained.

“You baby your sick friends.”

Draco huffed a bit, but didn't deny it.

“You hum when you cook,” Harry murmured, and Draco flushed. He didn't know Harry had heard him. “You dislike small talk and prefer people to be honest with you, because you're blunt, and actually not as mean as you come off as.” 

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Harry wasn't finished.

“You have a dog you complain about all the time, but you love him to bits, anyway. Your favorite color is turquoise, your favorite sweet is chocolate even though you're mildly allergic, you don't like taxidermied birds because of how much you value freedom, you're grossed out by sneezes more than vomit, you can draw jellyfish well, you like grey tea best, you're impressed by boxed jello, you like umbrellas. You're self conscious about how people perceive you, but you're so confident, and overdramatic, and I can be simple with you, because I know I don't have to explain myself over every little thing, because you just get it. And you don't always ask questions or make comments when you want to, because you care more about my reactions than satiating your curiosity. Whenever something is wrong, whenever I need help, you're there, and you don't mind arguing, or kicking, or putting me to bed and reading me half asleep, because you don't like small talk.”

Draco’s heart was pounding. He couldn't breathe.

“I think you're more observant than you seem,” Draco whispered.

Harry lifted his head from Draco’s shoulder, his green eyes large and probing and open.

“I see a lot of things,” Harry said, and his eyes had a ring of light brown, practically gold, around the pupil, and what did that mean, exactly?

Draco had to get out.

“Trevor needs a walk,” Draco blurted.

Harry merely watched at him. Watched him as he shakily stood, as he grabbed his coat and wand, as he stumbled out of the room and made for the floo.

Draco had to get out, because Harry see, could see right through him, and what did that mean? 

He needed to get back under control before he mucked this up. All he could bloody think about was Harry’s eyes and his feet and his crooked smile and how much he _wanted_ , wanted _more_ , but wasn't this enough? Harry was bearing his heart, showing Draco how much he loved and treasured Draco as a close friend, and wasn't that enough?

He'd thought so, but Draco’s heart ached because it almost sounded like more, and he was beginning to realize no, it wasn't enough. He'd made a mistake. He was in too deep to back out now without hurting Harry, but in too deep to stay where he was without hurting himself.

Draco had to get out. Just a couple days. He would be fine in a couple days, and then he would come back. They would discuss the weather, what they did over the past few days, how they felt about the Quidditch leagues.

Small talk.


	9. The End

The next time Draco saw Potter was three days later, at his potion’s shop.

“Draco!”

Said blond glanced up from his ingredient-gathering in surprise, and promptly squeezed the toad’s eye he’d been rooting around for.

Potter had the decency to grimace when he noticed the juices oozing from between Draco’s startled fingers.

“Sorry, is this a bad time? Parkinson was out front, and told me to come right in...?”

Draco breathed in deeply through his nose, and out through his mouth. It was difficult, because Potter’s choice of a black tank top—which revealed his strong arms and left little of his muscled torso and toned chest to the imagination—was more than a little distracting.

“Not at all, Potter,” he muttered, magicking away the slime with a flick of his wrist. “How can I help you?”

Harry eyed him for a moment before smiling. “You wear an apron at work?”

Draco felt the urge to scowl at Harry, but it was so small, so easily overrun by the desire to tease, to playfully flutter his eyelashes and comment on how many people (not really) had said it brought out his eyes.

Draco, instead of doing either, sighed again.

“That, I do. How may I help you?”

Harry nodded distractedly, as he was looking around Draco’s work area with interest. “What? Oh, Teddy’s nearly recovered, but he needs some PepperUp Potion, and also wanted to know how you are. So. How are you?”

“Fine,” Draco replied simply, turning and grabbing the potion previously mentioned before handing it to a frowning Harry Potter.

“What, no inquiry as to my going-ons and doings?” he asked, mock offended.

Draco couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “Oh, how terribly rude of me. How  _ are  _ you, Harry? I simply  _ cannot  _ continue my day without this  _ riveting  _ information. In fact, I shan't think I can die happily without it.”

Harry smiled and jerked his chin up arrogantly. “I’ll have you know, my past few days have been  _ wonderful _ . I made quite a few revelations, and then did a little shopping, and then visited Teddy, and how I’m here. In fact, he’s the one who implored me to visit, and give you these.”

Harry then held out a little plastic bag, and Draco took it warily.

“What’s in it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry said, eyebrows raised, “but you could very easily look inside and find out.”

“I’ll just open it then, shall I?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“And nothing bad will happen? No curses or jinxes? This isn’t a trap of any kind? I know where you live, Potter, and will not hesitate to exact revenge-”

“Malfoy, I swear to God, just open the bloody bag.”

Draco sniggered, and opened the plastic bag. His laughter died down, and was replaced by a mere smile, albeit a confused one, when he found chocolates and a box of grey tea. 

“What’s this?”

“A gift.” Harry shrugged, and if Draco squinted and tilted his head just so, he looked shy.

“For?”

Harry shrugged again. “You said you would like them.”

Draco tried to remember such a conversation ever transpiring between them, and blanched a bit when he recalled telling Harry those were the ways to step up on Draco’s friendship ladder, or, ‘defeat the boss’ of the level.

Chocolate, grey tea, and a little skin, if he remembered correctly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Thank you. May I ask why?”

“I thought you were upset with me.”

Draco felt guilty. No, he’d merely been trying to regain control of his  _ feelings _ .

“Not really,” he admitted, “but, again, thank you. I like them.”

“All of them?” Potter asked casually, but the way he stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned forward a bit made Draco’s mouth dry, and he had a dangerous feeling that Potter knew just how distracting he was.

“Erm,” Draco muttered, hoping he wasn’t flushing too obviously, because why would Potter be flaunting himself, if not because...? “Potter,” Draco began. “ _ Harry _ ,” he corrected, and when the brunette grinned wider and stepped closer, Draco felt unnecessarily crowded. “Do correct me if I’m wrong, but... Italmostseemsasthoughyou’recourtingme?” he blurted.

Harry blinked at him for a moment before a sly grin slowly formed on his face.

“Why, Draco,” he said, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Draco let out a breath in a rush of relief, which was swiftly followed by embarrassment, which he covered up with aggression.

“You arse!” Draco hissed. “Here you had me worried I was crossing far too many lines far too quickly, and you didn’t even  _ say  _ anything-”

“What part about me saying you’re important to me, said I felt intruded upon?” Harry asked dryly.

Draco narrowed his eyes, going on the defensive. “Oh, so it’s  _ my  _ fault you weren’t clear enough, was it?”

Potter narrowed his eyes right back. “No, but I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you, now should I?”

“Perhaps you should, because  _ obviously  _ I’ve no idea what’s running through your head half the time, and-”

“That time at the park, when you were talking about taxidermied birds and then asked about my childhood, and I clammed up. That’s because the muggles who raised me were abusive,” Potter breathed out in a rush, and he looked a mix of exhilarated and anxious. “Not physically, but they didn’t feed me much, and kept me locked in a closet all my life, and I was scared all the time, and I didn’t learn to be brave or courageous until I met Ron and Hermione.”

Draco’s eyes were wide. “What?”

“The morning before I went to your flat for the first time? When to took my umbrella? I’d been pissed because Gin finally told me she and Parkinson had been dating for a few weeks already, and they hadn’t wanted to tell either of us because they didn’t want us to realize they were trying to set us up.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“And when I did go to your flat,” Harry said, taking Draco’s nervously clenching and unclenching hands in his own as he leaned in to press their foreheads together, “your flat was so clearly  _ you  _ that I wanted to see it all—your basement, your second floor, your attic—because I thought, fleetingly, insanely, that it would help me figure you out.”

“Oh,” Draco said weakly.

“And when you said I noticed a lot,” Potter continued, his words a soft mumble because that was all that was required with their close proximity. “I do. I notice a lot of things, because as an auror, I’m trained to, but it bothers some people. Ginny, Hermione, Ron—they all think it’s sneaky, but I’m not trying to interrogate or psychoanalyze anyone, it’s just how I am. But you don’t make a big deal out of it,” Harry said.

“I appreciate that you remember the little things,” Draco admitted, nodding, and their noses brushed, and Harry smiled. “I also appreciate that you don’t mind my need to argue sometimes, even if we’re just playing,” Draco began, slowly. “And I find it endearing that you use pens instead of quills. And I love your umbrella a little too much. And that tight shirt is a  _ sin _ .”

Harry laughed, and it was flattered and confident and very, very attractive.

“And I like your smile,” Draco added, and tried to make the momentous admittance sound casual.

Harry did smile then, and when he realized he did, he laughed a bit. “My smile?” he asked.

“One side raises higher than other, and it’s charmingly crooked,” Draco told him, and it felt nice that Harry  _ finally  _ knew what Draco knew.

Harry’s grin widened delightedly. “Anything else you’re dying to share?”

“I like the thin ring of brown around your pupils,” Draco decided. “I always thought your eyes were just green.”

Harry leaned back and stared at him. “The what?”

Draco frowned. “The brown. In your eyes.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I never noticed.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t.”

Harry leaned forward, holding Draco’s face in his hands, and for a second, Draco thought Harry was about to kiss him. But Harry just looked deeply into his eyes, and it still felt intimate.

“Ah,” Harry said. “Yeah, there’s a ring of blue around your pupils,” he noticed with what sounded like excitement. “I always thought they were just gray.”

Draco smiled a little. “I’m not  _ just  _ anything, it would be wise of you to remember.”

Harry nodded. “Of course.” And then he leaned in and kissed him, and Draco’s heart fluttered embarrassingly, but Harry couldn’t kiss him long, anyway, because then they were both giggling like children.

“This is ridiculous,” Draco sniggered.

“I concur,” Harry agreed in his snobbiest of voices, and then they were laughing again.

“Finally!” Pansy yelled, causing both men to jump and whip around to face her.

“Pans,” Draco said, mortified and flushing because Potter still had him crowded near the wall, and they really hadn’t been doing anything scandalous, but by her knowing grin, she thought they had been.

Draco pushed Potter away self-consciously, and Potter obliged, but only to sidle up next to him and hold his hand.

Draco smiled.

“I  _ knew  _ you two would get together!”

Draco scowled, then, and crossed his arms. “Ah, yes. Harry here was kind enough to share  _ why _ , exactly, you’d been lying to my face about a certain Weasley and yourself.”

Pansy, appropriately, looked guilty. “I’m sorry, Draco, but it’s not what you think. It was initially a ruse to get you two together, but you both interacted so  _ genuinely _ . It wasn’t long before I realized you two wouldn’t  _ need  _ any further meddling, and I wanted things to progress naturally between you two,” she admitted, and her smile was warm. “I thought that, if you knew Gin and I were together, you might feel pressured to get in a relationship yourself, or away from Potter because you didn’t want to make things weird with Gin and I-”

“What?” Draco asked. “I wouldn’t-”

“I didn’t know what you would or wouldn’t do,” Pansy interrupted, “but I didn’t want to be the cause of any of it. I thought it would be best to leave you two to your own devices, and in order to do so, I had to distance myself from you, and I’m sorry about that, darling, but my instincts simply  _ insisted _ , and they haven’t been wrong before.”

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed and scowled, but based on Pansy’s happy giggle and Potter’s encouraging squeeze to his hand, they both knew he’d forgiven her.

Pansy left after a few more teasing remarks and several demands from Draco for her to get her fine arse  _ out  _ of his sight before he began throwing hexes, and she laughed and teased some more, but did eventually leave.

Potter, of course, then turned to him with a waggle of his eyebrows and wrapped his arms around the blond’s waist.

“Ready to go?”

“I do have a job, you know.”

“I’m sure you could take the day off?” Harry asked, but his tone was polite enough that Draco smiled.

“I don’t know. You would have to make it worth my while.”

“I will.” 

Harry smiled, and squeezed his hand tighter, and they laughed.

Harry kept his promise, and continued to remind Draco why they were together for years to come.

And when they moved in together, everyone put aside their pasts to help, and Draco just barely beat Ron at chess, and he and Hermione bonded over potions theory.

And on their wedding day, Teddy gladly brought up the rings.

And when Trevor passed away, Harry surprised a mourning Draco with two new puppies that they could raise together, even if Trevor would always be their first.

And every thursday they went to the Burrow for dinner, while every other Sunday they went to the Manor, where Narcissa babied Harry like the second son she never had, and Harry loved it.

And they stayed up late watching Harry's muggle telly together in their matching sweaters knitted by none other than Molly Weasley.

And they took week-long vacations away with the dogs, which Draco treated like his blood children, and Harry loved that, too.

And Draco eventually did get around to teaching Harry to properly dance, and they continued to do that a lot because Draco realized Harry had a thing for it.

And Draco learned all of Harry’s favorite foods to make him for when he was sick, and Harry learned all of Draco’s favorite songs to sing to him when  _ he  _ was sick.

And sometimes they argued genuinely, and had deep conversations, but sometimes it was utter nonsense being spoken, and mostly laughing and kisses.

And Draco liked Harry to be the big spoon when sleeping, because he was shorter and never had to suffer hair in his face.

And Harry liked to kiss even in the mornings, when they had rancid breath and were too groggy to tell their faces from her elbows.

And Draco liked it when Harry made him tea because he was so careful about not over-steeping it, or serving it too hot, and it was awfully cute that he cared so much.

And Harry liked it when Draco shaved his face for him because then he could spend the next few minutes staring dreamily at his husband.

And when Harry was on an auror case too long and Draco got lonely, he would floo at the most ungodly hours, and send letters, and when he was feeling awfully romantic, he would send sonnets and poems that made Draco simultaneously laugh and scoff and maybe swoon, but he would never admit to that, but that was okay, because Harry knew anyway, which is why he continued to do so.

And they grew old together, and it was nice, because Draco could remember a time when he doubted he would live to see twenty, and a time when the things that stressed him out were potions orders and remembering to write that letter to Mother, and Harry Potter.

And, well, Harry Potter remained a source of stress, but mostly love, and affection, and when he died, sorrow.

But Draco still loved him until he joined him, and even then, because Harry felt the same.

**The end.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these boys so much, you have no idea
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! I know the ending may seem abrupt, but I hope I still made it enjoyable. I felt like this story was dragging, and felt it was time. Thanks for sticking it out with me!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will vary in length.
> 
> Honestly I just like this first chapter the best, but.  
> I typed 20+ pages so I might as well post the rest, even if it's not nearly as good...?  
> What do you guys think. Oneshot or not?
> 
> Comments and critiques (I need them, so don't hold back if you have constructive criticism, haha) are welcome but definitely not required. (owo)b


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